New England Half Marathon Race Recap
1, 2, 3, 4….
On my run yesterday I started counting.
“See, just seconds. Just time. Let it go,” I told myself.
The truth is I am having a hard time letting the seconds go, not just the 50 seconds that would have had me under the sub 1:30 time I’ve been chasing, but more like the 120+ seconds that would have put me in the finish time range, I thought I was fit enough to run.
And honestly, those thoughts seem so greedy.
I ran an actual race…in 2020. There were porta-potties and a starting line and the national anthem and water stops and other runners. Granted, we were all socially distanced and for a good part of the race it felt like just another long run, but still: I raced.
I PR’d not just a little PR, but a 3 minute PR. I ran the fastest I’ve ever run 13.1 miles.
The weather was perfect. A stunning sunrise over New Hampshire’s rolling foothills to the White Mountains. Clear, sunny skies and perfectly cool.
The course was favorable (OK maybe not the gravel part where my right ankle snapped to the side over a loose rock—thank you trail running for the durable ankles). Rolling downhill, with enough uphill to reengage the glutes and make me feel at home.
My cheer squad was there in full force. I could hear them before I could even see them. I couldn’t help but smile.
Collective Measures of Enough-ness
As disappointed runners often do, I started scheming redemption. Except there is only virtual redemption, which isn’t that appealing.
Which means I’ll sit with this time for a while. Maybe another two years, since that seems to be my half-marathon pattern.
One of the reasons I haven’t run a half in so long is the definitive nature of road running times. It’s as if there’s a collective standard of enough-ness built into particular benchmark times. And clearly, I have a hard time letting go of those perceived (let’s be honest here, it’s all in my own damn mind;) expectations.
That’s why I love the mountains and the trails and the snow: it’s just you and the terrain and the clock doesn’t mean a dang thing.
Dealing with Disappointment
Whenever I do have a disappointing result, whether it’s on the road or the trail I try to flip the negative script as much as possible and focus on the positives. So here’s what went right:
I executed a solid half marathon. The last three miles of every half marathon I’ve ever run have always been a death march. Not this time, those were my fastest miles.
This is just a data point, there’s an upward trending trajectory.
I’m healthy + strong. Not injured = more consistent training.
During the race, I felt great, had fun and smiled a lot.
The Breakdown
Here’s a bit of what was going through my head during the race….
Mile 1: keep it soooooo easy. * looks at watch * 7:05, perfect.
Mile 2: Oh that’s a nice hill.
Mile 3: I should have worn sunglasses, I can’t see a dang thing. Don’t look at your watch. Just run.
Mile 4 - 6: This is so nice. These roads are so nice. I feel so amazing. I should push a little more. No don’t push harder, you have to save it for the last three miles. Don’t look at your watch. * takes Spring Energy at mile 4.5 *
Mile 7: Wow, already. Mile 7. Ok. Three miles and then start pushing.
Mile 8: I think there’s a hill from 8.5 to 10. * takes Spring Energy at mile 8.5 * Don’t push to hard on this. Just take it easy.
Mile 9: A gravel bike path?! Shit. Gah. I was feeling so flowy. OK. Trail this is YOU. You got this. Just pick a solid line. F*ck how long is this? * ankle 1/4 rolls * dang it. Light feet, Sarah.
Mile 10: * looks at watch * 1:09:xx * does very bad math * I’ve totally got this! Oh wait. No. Shit. I have to run a 20 min 5K…at the end of a half marathon. Well, f*ck. Well, there’s not much else you can do but go for it. You’re a fighter, you can do it.
Mile 11: I should have looked at my watch sooner. You got this. Just push and you could still do it.
Mile 12: Now my legs feel tired. Your legs are not tired. They feel no different than a hard track workout. Keep pushing!
Mile 13: Ok. Slight incline. C’mon a little bit more. You can fight for a mile.
.1: 1:30 is still good. You still ran a 3 min PR. That’s still good. It’s OK. You’re almost done. Just don’t let it get to 1:31
Races are a funny thing. The way we feel about them (and the results) are very revealing. There’s always something to learn, but the lesson I always seem to keep learning is that enough is a choice. I’m the one who gets to choose what is ‘enough’ and that’s where the joy is.
-Sarah
